


'Til Death Do Us Part

by stiles_is_batman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Temporary Character Death, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiles_is_batman/pseuds/stiles_is_batman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't take Derek's death well and becomes set on finding a way to bring him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles was only ten years old when the Hale fire happened, but even he remembered it like it was yesterday. He had off from school that day, some teacher meeting thing, and he was excited to spend the day at the station with his dad. It was early afternoon when he saw everyone start running around and leaving the station, his father quickly telling him to 'stay with the nice lady at the front desk and stay out of trouble'. A few hours later Derek was brought over and separated from some lady maybe a year or two older than he was. Stiles looked over to see his own father, standing there, his entire body aching with exhaustion. Derek sat silently with a thin blanket draped over his shoulders, his school bag resting between his feet. Stiles watched him, more curiously fascinated by his facial features than anything. He was so tuned into the older boy that he jumped when he felt his father's hand come down onto his shoulder gently. 

"You leave him alone, Stiles. He's had a rough day, understand?" His voice was firm, speaking in a warning tone.   
Stiles merely nodded quickly.    
"Scott's mom is going to come pick you up soon. She'll get you something to eat and take you home-"   
"But-!"   
"No buts! Get some food in you and wait at home for me, I'll be home as soon as I can. don't stay up past ten, alright?"   
Stiles huffed. He hated not knowing what was going on. He paused before reluctantly giving a nod, looking back to the stranger now near tears with his little blanket, his eyes fixated on the floor. Stiles may have only been ten, but it made his heart ache to see someone in so much pain. He wanted to help. The boy waited for his father to leave the room before rummaging through his day bag, shuffling past his crayons and pulling out a small box of band-aids. He picked through them, finding his favorite one, his batman band-aid. Stiles hopped off of the chair, quickly walking over to the teenager in the blanket and extended his hand, offering it to him.    
"Don't be sad.. Sometimes bad things happen to the people who least deserve it," he stated innocently, giving a small smile when the other took the small bandage from him and pocketed it. His dad used to say that to him a lot when his mom died, and even though he had no idea what this person had just gone through, he thought maybe it might help him as much as it had helped Stiles.   
Derek could have gotten mad, sure. He could have resented this random little kid for giving him a batman anything right after his whole family was killed, but... he didn't. This kid knew nothing of the world, had no idea what was going on with anything, and still he tried to help. He forced a small smile, trying to bite back his sadness despite having every right to be upset.    
"Thanks, kid." His voice was a cracked, broken whisper, his eyes welling up a bit.    
Stiles wasn't an overly affectionate kid, especially after his mom died, but there was something about this person. The guy looked like a sad puppy. Stiles could practically see his ears drooping and it killed him. He wanted to help him so bad and he didn't even know why. He took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around the stranger's broad shoulders and pulling him into a firm hug. Well, as firm as a hug from a ten year old could be... He could feel the other tense under him and he just hugged him tighter, burying his face innocently into his neck until he heard him exhale.   
"Stiles! I told you to leave him alone!" He heard the sharp tone of his father and let go quickly.    
"I was just trying to help!" he piped up.   
"I don't want to hear it. Go wait in my office until Scott's mom gets here."   
And then Derek spoke, his voice a little more put together than it was earlier. "It's okay.. He's not bothering anyone."   
Sheriff Stilinski gave a visible sigh. "Stiles. My office. Now."   
The boy grumbled, gathering his things and trudging off to the other room. It wasn't more than maybe twenty minutes before Mrs. McCall showed up to take him home. When they passed the lobby he looked around eagerly for the teenager. His shoulders slumped when he realized he wasn't out there anymore, distraught that he didn't get a chance to say goodbye to the kid with what seemed like the weight of the world on his shoulders and sadness in his eyes. Were they even friends? To Stiles they were.   
He learned who the guy was much later and why he was so sad. Stiles still felt terrible; he wondered if he'd ever see him again, and if he was okay.   
Stiles remembered it like it was yesterday.    
Derek remembered it too. He remembered the kid that, completely ignorant to who and what he was, tried to help just because he was concerned. What if Derek had been some sort of child molester? He always shook his head at the blind faith Stiles had shown in him that day. He had kept an eye on him after that.. checking on him from time to time, making sure he wasn't getting himself into any situations he couldn't handle. He felt some sort of attachment to him. He couldn't explain it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to open that can of worms, but there was definitely a bond. Although, Derek was sure he was the only one who felt it, and shit if it didn't make him feel like a major creep.    
When he found Scott and Stiles in the woods, knowing one of them had been bitten... it took everything he had to keep composed. He wanted to search every inch of the boy's flesh for the bite, and he was flooded with relief when he found out it was his friend. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was an unusually quiet night for Stiles. 9pm and he wasn't already out conquering near-death situations and saving sourwolves from kanima that couldn't swim. He decided to check his phone. Nothing. This was definitely weird. He scrolled through his contacts, trying to figure out who would know what was going on and deciding Isaac was a good place to start.   
"Hello?"  
"Isaac? Hey man, is something going on tonight?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"I dunno, it just seems kinda quiet, I guess.."  
"Not that I know of... Derek hasn't told me anything, he's not even here right now."   
"What?"  
"What, what? He hasn't been in all day. I figured he was with you or Scott."  
"No, I haven't heard from him either.. Alright, I'm gonna call Scott.. see if he's heard anything."  
"Alright, ya know it could just be a quiet night for once.. It would be a nice change of pace, we could all use it."  
"Come on, Isaac, you're not that new to all of this. A day off would make things too easy."  
"You're probably right."  
"Of course I'm right, I'm Stiles!"  
"Goooo."  
"Okay bye."  
He hung up the phone, dialing Scott's number right afterwards. For once the kid actually picked up, and Stiles gave a sigh in relief.   
"What's up?"  
"Hey, what's going on tonight?"  
"Uh.. I dunno, haven't heard from anyone. I think Derek's with Isaac, he's probably training him or something."  
"No.. I just spoke to Isaac, hasn't heard from him all day."  
"Really? That’s... weird. Even for Derek."  
"I know.. He'll usually at least let Isaac know where he is, if no one else."  
"Yeah or you, ya' little love bug."  
"Scott!"  
"Reeeelaaaxxx, I'm only teasing!"  
"Speaking of love bugs, what's going on with Jackson and Lydia?"  
"Nothing that I know of.. I think they're just kinda doing their own thing right now.."  
"Okay, so where's De- hang on, my phone's beeping."  
"'Kay."  
Stiles hit the 'flash' button on his phone, switching to the second line. "Hello?"  
"Stiles, I need you to come down to the hospital, okay?"  
He felt panic shooting up his spine. "What!? Why? What's wrong? Dad, are you okay? Tell me you're okay."  
"I'm fine, Stiles.. just.. get down here as soon as you can, okay?"  
"Yeah, sure I'm on my way there now." He switched back to the first line. "Scott. That was my dad. Where are you? I'm picking you up. We gotta go down to the hospital."  
"I'll meet you down there, just go."  
"Okay."  
He hung up, already pulling his hoodie on and fumbling out the door. What the hell was going on. He fought with his car keys and the ever-evasive ignition, finally getting it started on the sixth shot. Stiles peeled away from the curb, racing towards the hospital. He made it there in record time, slightly out of breath from how demanding his reflexes had to be to not hit anything on the way. It was comforting to see Scott already there, waiting outside for him, concern written all over his face.  
"What's going on, is your dad okay?"  
"Yeah, I think he's fine. I dunno, he just told me to meet him down here." He took a deep breath, walking through the sliding doors. He could feel a sickening knot in his stomach and he brought an arm around his gut, trying to swallow back the feeling. Scott noticed it, of course, and he placed a reassuring hand on Stiles' shoulder.   
"We don't even know why we're here yet, I'm sure everything's fine."  
Stiles shook his head. "You should have heard my dad's voice.. something bad is going on."  
Sheriff Stilinski rounded the corner, a look of exhausted relief on his face when he saw his son and his best friend. "Boys, I'm glad you're here, Stiles, we'll discuss how fast you got here another time." He raised an eyebrow. "We have a body.. that needs identifying. I think you two will be able to do it better than any of us.”  
Stiles mouth when dry. "Wh-" he cleared his throat, his voice little more than a whisper. "Who is it?"  
His father looked back at him apologetically. "Stiles.. I'm so sorry."  
Stiles swallowed hard, "Let’s just.. get this over with."  


They headed to the morgue in silence. Scott hated having to come to the hospital for any reason, even if it was just to bring his mom some dinner. The enhanced scent of piss and shit and sickness and death. Not only was it nauseating, but it was depressing. He glanced into the rooms as they passed, the sound of coughing and wheezing mixing with the smells. It was overbearing. But he was here for Stiles. Thats what friends do. He shifted his attention to the boy, ready to help in any way he could at a moments notice. They had arrived, and Sheriff Stilinski opened one of the latched doors to  the second row from the bottom, pulling out the table and a sheeted body. Scott smelled the despair wash over his best friends being.

"No...." He let a choked out whisper. Stiles brought his hands to his face, his fingers raking through the short hair on the top of his head. He turned around quickly, pacing for a moment before turning back. "No.. No this can't be actually happening... don't tell me that's..." He could feel his hands shaking, his knees starting to go weak. He pressed the palm of his hands into his eyes, trying to fight back tears as he clenched and re-clenched his jaw. Derek Hale was under that sheet. He didn't need to see his face.   
His father watched with a pained expression as his son reacted to seeing the corpse. "Stiles.. I'm sorry.."  
"I'll give confirmation. That's Derek, Stiles doesn't need to do it." Scott piped up, swallowing hard. He knew how Stiles felt about Derek, he knew how Derek had felt about Stiles, and he knew it wasn't something either of them had gotten the chance to discuss with each other. He didn't want his best friend to have to go through this.  
"No.. just... I need to see him. I need to see what did this to him. What could have possibly killed Derek?" He was more talking to himself than anyone. Stiles wrapped his arms tight across his chest, his fingers fisting into his sides. He looked up at his father who nodded, pulling the sheet down to his waist. Stiles tensed, his knees giving out, the only thing keeping him from crashing to the ground was Scott's reflexes in catching him. Derek was all but maimed; gashes and cuts littering his body.   
Sheriff Stilinski took a moment before speaking. "We think it was a group of mountain lions.. one couldn't do this much damage alone. C.O.D. was sharp force trauma to vital organs.." He took another pause, watching his son take this all in. "I'm sorry, Stiles.. I know he was a friend of yours."   
Stiles couldn't take this. His whole world was just rocked in the worst possible way. He let himself hang in Scott's grip probably longer than he should have before fighting to his feet, his face blank. "How.. how long will he be in here, before they move him or bury him or whatever."  
"Well, his entire family is dead, there's no one to really take over what happens to him. He'll probably be cremated and-"  
"No!!" He snapped, taking a defensive stance. "I mean.. No.. Don't cremate him. He told me if he ever died, he'd want me to handle it, and I say we bury him by his house." Stiles was lying, they never actually had this conversation, but then again he wasn't ready to accept Derek's death. He needed him somewhere that he could get to without raising any red flags.   
"By the Hale house? Stiles, that house is damn near burned to the ground! Why would anyone want to be buried all the way out there."  
"I dunno, dad, why don't you ask him yourself? Oh wait – that isn't exactly an option at the moment, now is it."   
"Stiles." He spoke in a warning tone, even with all that was going on, he was still his father and respect was still required.   
He gave a sigh. "I'm sorry. Look, I don't know why he wanted that but thats just what he told me okay?"  
"Alright.. I'll see what arrangements I can make. If there's a particular spot you want him buried, I dunno, go mark it or something so we know. If not, I'll just pick a spot when we get him up there."  
Stiles nodded. "I'm... I'll see you at home." He turned, his arms crossed tight again as he headed for the door, his best friend at his heel. Scott could smell the distress and agony pouring off the other boy in buckets. Stiles headed to the car. "I'm gonna mark where to put Derek. Then I'll probably go home.."   
"Okay, call me, text me, whatever, if you need anything. We'll get through this." Scott pulled his friend into a quick hug before leaving.   
"Thanks," he said simply. Stiles sat in his car for a few minutes in silence, trying to sort out everything that had just happened. He had no idea why he was so upset about any of this. He wasn't even in Derek's pack. Scott was, and he hardly reacted to seeing Derek like that. What the hell, man, it wasn't like him to be so outwardly emotional. He took a deep breath and headed to the Hale house.


	3. Chapter 3

It didn't take long for Stiles to find a spot and mark it with a few rocks. He picked a place behind the house, facing nothing but deep woods. Yeah.. this would do for now. Stiles took a few moments, staring up at the burned house in the darkness. He just stood there; his mind racing, eyes welling up with tears again. His entire body ached but he couldn't feel anything, not even noticing when the ground met his knees. He curled in on himself, pressing his face against his knees as a sob raked through his body. He stayed like that for a long while, sobbing like a child in front of the house. Everything had been starting to get to him lately and now... now this. He couldn't deal with this anymore. He couldn't handle any of this, not without Derek being there. Derek was always there and no matter what situation Stiles managed to get himself into he knew he was safe because Derek was always around, whether he could see him or not. Now he was exposed. He was vulnerable. Weak, and he didn't know how to deal with that. He hadn't felt this exposed in a long time, he actually couldn't remember ever feeling this exposed. Even when his mom died, he still had his dad. He wasn't going to make it through this war the way he was. None of the pack was strong enough to handle this and he wasn't strong enough as a human to fight this. No, he needed a boost. He needed some sort of physical edge now.    
He needed the bite.   
Stiles didn't know how long he had been curled up like that. It wasn't until he seemingly ran out of tears that he forced himself to his feet, and looked around again. It may have been hours. His head ached and his throat was sore; eyes burning and swollen from crying for so long. The boy forced one foot in front of the other. He initially was planning on heading back to the truck but gravity sent him stumbling towards a tree by his jeep and he found it to be an appropriate place to violently puke against it. Christ, this was a piss poor display of himself and he was thankful no one was around to see it. It was getting late, and he wanted to be home before his father. The boy looked back at the house a final time before climbing into his truck and driving off.    
His father's patrol car was nowhere around when he pulled in front of the house and Stiles sighed in relief, not wanting to talk at the moment or explain his puffy eyes to anyone. He slipped into his house, locking the front door and heading towards the kitchen. He wasn't hungry.. wasn't thirsty. He rummaged around until he came upon the liquor, a whiskey bottle about three-quarters of the way full. He grabbed the bottle and headed upstairs, locking himself in his room and taking a few long swigs of the amber liquid. It burned as it slid down his hoarse, dry throat, and he felt it warming his gut. Stiles wasn't sure what it was about the sensation but it was comforting. He capped the bottle and let himself fall back onto his bed, lying there for a few minutes.    
Yeah, he definitely needed the bite. He helped Scott through his transformation; theoretically, he should be fine since he knew now what to look out for and how to control it. He sat up, pulling out his phone and texting his best friend.    
[Call me.]    
It wasn't even 30 seconds later that his phone rang. "Stiles? What happened? How are you holding up? Are you okay?"   
"Yeah..." He cleared his throat. "I'm fine.. we need to talk."   
"Sure, of course, what's up?"   
"I want the bite."   
"You... you what?"   
"You're a werewolf, Scott, I know you heard me. I want. The bite."   
"No way, man! You're only saying that because you're upset about Derek! Stiles, you aren't thinking straight."   
"Don't tell me how I'm thinking." He swallowed more of the beverage. "I'm telling you I want the bite now. Are you going to give it to me or not?"    
"No. I'm not going to put you through that, Stiles. Besides, I don't even know if I can turn you. I'm not an Alpha and Isaac is less of an Alpha than I am. I don't think we have the ability to turn."   
Stiles took a long pause before giving a slow exhale. "Fine.. okay. I'm gonna... I'll text you later.." With that, the boy hung up before his friend could object. Another deep swig of whiskey and he was on his back again, staring up at the ceiling. He had to figure something out. There wasn't a chance in hell he'd be able to do this without Derek.    
And then it hit him.   
What if... He brought Derek back.   
Was that even something that was possible? It had to be.. He shot up from his bed and nearly leaped into his desk chair, propping the bottle of Jack between his legs as he threw open his laptop and started gathering any information he could about it. Stiles found himself mildly amused from all of the folklore about how to kill a werewolf and how there was absolutely nothing about how to resurrect them. Which, he supposed made sense, who in their right, logical mind would want to bring a werewolf  back from the dead? Not even Derek made the attempt to bring his family back after the fire, but then again he didn't have the advantage that Stiles had, which was his entire body in one, uncooked piece. Four hours and half of the remaining whiskey later, the boy had found absolutely nothing on resurrecting werewolves so he decided to try working on finding something about resurrecting human corpses. Another three hours only to find little bits and pieces of possible theories; granted these theories had gaping holes torn into them.   
Stiles had been so caught up in looking for answers and information he had forgotten about the booze, and by the time the sun had made its appearance he had sobered up. No, this was some serious shit he was trying to get involved in. He needed the help of someone who legitimately knew what they were talking about..    
Someone like Deaton.


	4. Chapter 4

He checked the time. It was just after 6am. He had heard his father come home a few hours back and go straight to bed, probably assuming Stiles would be asleep at that time. He was thankful for it. Stiles was focused for the first time in a long time, the thought of taking his adderall not even flashing through his mind. The vet's office didn't open for another three hours but he knew Deaton got there early every morning to start getting things cleaned up and getting the animals fed. Stiles didn't even bother changing his clothes. He threw on his hoodie and headed for the door, racing towards his office.   
Stiles let himself in, remembering where Scott said the spare key usually was. "Deaton, Doc are you around?"   
The vet turned the corner, his demeanor calm as ever. "Good morning to you too, Stiles. I see you found out what happened to Derek?"  
"Yeah, I... you knew?" He furrowed his brow, stopping dead in his tracks.   
"I know a lot of things. He certainly knew this to be a possible outcome for his choices, even I couldn't talk him out of it."  
"What happened to him? What killed him? Why didn't you say anything to anyone?"  
"What happened doesn't matter. Why did you come here?"  
"...You need to help me bring him back."  
"Bring him back? Stiles.. Necromancy is not a toy. It's risky and hardly ever completely successful."  
"Deaton, I know you're a Bokor."  
The vet chuckled. "Oh, do you? What gave me away?"  
"Who else is going to use Black Mountain Ash as a first resort?"  
"You've done your research."  
"Have you just met me? So are you going to help me with this or not?"  
"What happens if I don't help you?"  
"I find someone to give me the bite and kill whatever killed Derek."  
"Vengeance will only turn you into a kanima."  
"Then I'll be strong enough to do some actual damage."  
He gave a sigh, shaking his head at the boy. "Fine. I'll help you if you promise to stay human until this is all taken care of."  
"Fine. What do we need to do?"  
Stiles watched as he thought a moment, pacing the exam room and rummaging through a few cabinets. Deaton had to figure out what would have the best success rate, only one possibility coming to mind. He snapped his fingers, turning to Stiles. "I got it. It's called the Sleeping Beauty Effect. Basically, Derek's mate has to take a serum into their mouth, and transfer it directly into Derek's. Once it's absorbed into his body, theoretically, he'll wake up."  
"What do you mean, 'theoretically'?"  
"Well, like I said, that’s the basic synopsis of how this works. I've never actually had to use it on anyone, I'm just repeating to you what I've learned.."  
"Okay, how long will it take you to make this?" Stiles asked, perking up. He tried not to get himself too excited but he couldn't help becoming at least a little hopeful that there might be a chance to bring him back.  
"Stiles, don't underestimate for a second how dangerous this actually is, and don't forget that there's no guarantee it's actually going to work."  
"It'll work, how long will it take?"   
Deaton looked at his watch, giving a small sigh. "Well, if I start now I'll maybe open an hour late. I suppose that's alright."  
Stiles nearly jumped up and down in excitement. "You're the best, Deaton. I'm gonna try and figure out who his mate is, text me when it's done?"  
He shook his head giving a small chuckle. "Alright, I suggest asking Scott. From my understanding, he probably knows."   
The boy nodded, leaving quickly and hopping into his truck, a newfound light in his eyes. When he arrived at his best friend's house he banged at the door, eagerly willing Scott to answer.   
Scott had been sleeping. Seeing as how it was 7am... on a Saturday. The harsh sound startled him, causing him to fall out of bed. He groaned, pulling on a pair of pants and trudging down the stairs. His mom had been working an overnight shift and shouldn't be home for another hour or two. So who was at the door? Stiles kept banging on the solid oak until he heard the shift of the lock and his tired friend stared back at him.   
"Dude. Ever heard of a cell phone? It's, like.. really early!"  
"You shouldn't be so willing to open your door to strangers, Scott. What If I had been a predator? What I hang upside down from your roof and almost get beaten with a bat but a stranger at the door gets a half naked werewolf?"  
"Predators don't bang on the front door, making copious amounts of noise in broad daylight!"  
"Oooh, 'copious'. Someone's been studying their SAT words."  
"What are you doing here?"  
"We need to talk."  
"Yeah, I get that." In the natural relief it was to have Stiles back to his normal perky self, Scott almost forgot how broken his friend was only yesterday. "What's going on, you seem to be in a better mood..?"  
"Yeah, well, I stayed up all night, got drunk, and came up with a plan." He said casually, letting himself into the house and heading upstairs towards Scott's room so they could talk. "And you're gonna help me by giving me some information."   
His friend looked at him skeptically. "Okayyy? So what's this plan you're thinking of?"  
"No no, not thinking of, it's already set in motion. I just need you to tell me one thing. Who's supposed to be Derek's mate?"  
Scott's eyes went wide. "What makes you think I would know that?"   
"Because Deaton told me you would."  
"Deaton? You spoke to my boss before coming to me?"   
"Oh come on, Scott, don't even play that game, he's gonna help me with this whole.. plan thing.. I just need to know.. Who was supposed to be Derek's mate?"   
"I don't know. No one ever told me."   
Stiles knew Scott was lying. He had grown up with this kid and he had seen him lie to his mom more times than he could count. It hurt that he would lie to him too. His face fell and he stared at the other. "Scott... this.. this is my only chance to bring him back. I need you to answer me."  
Scott jumped off of his bed. "You want to bring him back?! Are you crazy? You can’t just bring people back to life! It's necrophilia!"  
"Necromancy."  
"What?"  
"Necromancy. Not necrophilia. And look, Scott, if I have the chance to bring Derek back, you'd better believe I'm gonna take it. Then he's gonna give me the damn bite himself and I'm going to kill whatever killed him."  
"Stiles, have you completely lost your mind!? You do realize how insane this idea is, don't you?"  
"Look, I don't care. Scott, you're my best friend I need you to help me. I need you to tell me who's supposed to be his damn mate!"  
"No. No way, Stiles I'm not telling you. Nothing good can come from this, you know that."   
"I don't care!! If you don't help me with this I'm.... I don't even know, honestly. Remember how mad I got when you kissed Lydia? Yeah, that’s gonna be fucking nothing in comparison. Just tell me!"  
"Okay, fine – it's you, okay?"  
"What?"  
"You're... supposed to be Derek's mate."  
"Me?"  
"Yeah.. he.. he said he'd known for a while."  
Stiles took a deep breath, about to say something when his phone vibrated in his pocket.  


[Serum's done, get here when you can. -Dr. D] 

He chuckled. "Your boss signs off his text messages with 'Dr. D.'? That's... I don't even know how to react to that. I gotta go though, thanks for your help." He placed a reassuring hand on Scott's shoulder. "I really appreciate it." 

Scott nodded, his own hand resting on Stiles' shoulder. "Be careful, man."  
"C'mon, I'm Stiles."  
"I know that's what worries me."  
"Such faith. I'm flattered, really." He rolled his eyes with a small smile. "I'll be okay." Stiles pulled his friend into a quick hug before leaving, heading back to the vet's office.  
The door was unlocked this time, and Stiles didn't hesitate in letting himself inside. "Doc, it's ready?" He called into the dimly lit office.   
"It sure is, come on in, I'm just finishing a little sweeping."  
Stiles eagerly hopped over the half-wall dividing him from the vet. "Okay and you're sure this is going to work?"  
"Absolutely not. Now, let me explain to you how this works." He placed a corked bottle on the examining table. "Don't open this until you're ready to take care of what needs to be done. By now I'm assuming you figured out you're Derek's mate." He raised a finger to keep Stiles from interrupting him. "Yes, I knew. Anyway. You need to take this serum into your mouth, and transfer it directly into Derek's mouth. It can't come into contact with open air for more than a second or so. Once it's absorbed into his system, his wolf should wake up. Now listen closely, this is where it gets dangerous. When this happens, Derek as a human is not going to be strong enough to control himself. He's going to 'wolf out,' as you so gracefully put it, and he is going to crave raw meat. I suggest you bring enough carcasses to keep him feeding for a solid hour or so, until he regains his strength. A couple deer should do. The tricky part is getting your face out of his face before he has the chance to rip it off. Do you understand?"  
Stiles took a minute to process what was just said to him. "So basically.. you want me to make out with a dead werewolf who may or may not try to eat me."  
"No, I'm telling you to make out with a dead werewolf who will definitely try to eat you.. if this works, of course. Once Derek has regained some strength he should start to calm down."  
"Wonderful..." He drawled, beginning to get anxious again at yet another obstacle in his way. "Okay so now I need to learn how to hunt deer; is that what you're telling me?"  
"Well, you could always ask the Argents for help."  
"Yeah, because with Derek finally dead and Gerard running around god knows where half out of his mind, helping me is really going to be a priority."  
"Your father is the town's sheriff, he never taught you how to shoot?"  
"Of course he did, but he's not just going to give me his gun so I can go hunt some deer and resurrect my dead werewolf boyfriend!" He paused. That's what they would be, right? If Stiles brought him back? Unless it didn't work.. Unless this whole thing made Derek change his mind about Stiles. He took a deep breath. "I'll figure something out." He muttered, pocketing the mixture. "Thanks for all of your help."  
Deaton watched the boy battle his conflicting emotions. He observed Stiles, and how far he was willing to go for this werewolf. "Stiles, one more thing." He started, waiting for the boy to pause and look up before continuing. "There's puffer fish venom in that serum. Do not swallow any of it, accidentally or otherwise. Do you understand?"   
The boy took the bottle out of his pocket, looking it over again before nodding. "Got it.. Oh, and doc, you never told me what it was that actually killed Derek..?"  
The vet sighed. "A pack of alphas."   
"Woah, wait, what? They come in packs now?" he stammered, his eyes widening.   
"Indeed, there's an entire pack of alphas in Beacon Hills now. Derek tried to face them alone; he knew that even with his entire pack behind him, none of them would have been strong enough to fight any single one of them. He didn't want to risk losing anyone."  
"So he goes on a damn suicide mission!?" Stiles was all but screaming now, his face flushed with anger. How could Derek be so goddamn reckless? "I swear to god when I bring this fucker back I'm going to kill him again myself! How the fuck could he have been so damn selfish!?"  
"Stiles, you have to understand how Derek thinks, better than anyone if you're planning on being his mate. He is a guy who lost everything at a very important time in his life. This is a guy who truly believes, beyond every possible doubt, that no one actually relies on him anymore. He's completely alone, in a dark hole, and he builds his pack not only to get strong enough to try and pull himself out, but each member he adds is, metaphorically, him extending his hand for help. Derek longs for the bonds and security that a pack brings. He doesn't mind teaching them or giving tough love when it's needed because he so desperately wants them to survive and thrive with him. Remember that rave? How concerned Derek got and how quickly he ran in for Scott? Your best friend howled for him. That’s how he knew. Do you think he wanted to turn Victoria Argent? Of course not, but he knew if the bite didn't kill her he'd be able to deal with her at a later time. His priority was protecting the pack. So when half of them just up and left because things got a little difficult, I'm sure you could understand how magnified the effects were on him." Deaton paused, shaking his head slightly. "And then there's you, Stiles. I have never, in all of my years working with the Hale family and watching Derek grow up, seen anyone effect his logical thought process more than you do. He cares about you so deeply that when your safety comes into question it rocks him to the roots of his being. You were that first flicker of light to him.. when things were at their darkest.You might not remember the Hale fire, you were just a kid. But you gave him a simple, innocent, kind gesture and it gave Derek's life purpose again. Derek could have turned out a lot worse, if it wasn't for you, Stiles. He could have become a monster. Instead of spending his time twisting his reality and playing the victim, he looked after you. He did everything he could to protect you from a distance and it gave him something to do; and in doing that, it kept him on the right track." Another pause and Deaton walked over to the counter, grabbing his bottle of water and taking a swig. "A lot of things are happening for Derek right now. His world was spinning and twisting every which way. The one and only thing that was clear to him was you. He knows first hand that even pack can come and go, but you were his one constant. That above all else, he had to protect you. So thats what he tried to go do."  
At some point during all of that Stiles had sat down. He remained silent for a while, trying to process everything that was just said to him. For once he didn't know how to respond. He was learning so much more about this guy now that he was dead than he ever knew in the entire time he was alive. After a few long minutes he finally looked up. "How do you know all of this? Derek isn't exactly one to discuss his feelings."  
Deaton only smiled. "Like I said, I've watched him grow up. I've watched him change. I have my ways."  
Stiles gave a nod, standing and fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie. "I'm going to bring him back. This has to work."   
"A lot of it is mind over matter, Stiles, you have to believe in yourself, and the serum. If your will is strong enough, it should work."  
Another nod and Stiles was heading for the door. "Alright, thanks doc!" He called quickly before leaving.


	5. Chapter 5

Once he had climbed into his truck, Stiles grabbed his phone, calling Allison.

"Mmm-hello?"  
He had to bite back a small chuckle at the drowsiness in her voice. "Hi, Allison?"  
"Mhmm.. what's up, Stiles?" He heard her yawn and stretching through the phone.   
"I need to borrow one of your dad's guns."  
Her voice was suddenly more alert. "What? Are you crazy? No way!"  
"Allison, please, you need to trust me. I need to borrow one of his guns just for a couple of hours."   
"Stiles, I can't just /give you/ one of his guns without him noticing. What do you even need it for?"   
"I have to hunt a few deer."   
"A few? Since when do you even hunt?"  
"I don't, this is just one exception, I promise."   
He heard the girl sigh, and there was silence over the phone before a bit of rustling as she presumably sat up. "I can't give you a gun but I can lend you one of my compound bows."  
"You want me to hunt with a bow and arrow? I'm not you, Pocahontas, I don't even know how to /use/ a compound bow!"   
"Well then I suppose I'd have to give you a crash course in archery then, wouldn't I, dipshit." She teased playfully. "You'll be fine, I promise. Just come over and we'll see what we can do."  
"Okay, I'm on my way."  
"Wait, now?"  
"No, tomorrow. Yes, now! I'm like a few blocks away!"  
More silence on the phone and Allison sighed. "You're gonna be the death of me, Stiles, you really are... Okay, text me when you get here, don't knock. I don't want to wake up my dad since he's sleeping, ya know, like the /rest/ of the normal world."  
"Got it." he replied quickly, oblivious to the slight agitation in Allison's voice in being woken up so early. Stiles was tunnel visioning right now, all that mattered was going through the motions and doing whatever needed to be done to ultimately bring Derek back.   
Allison sighed, hanging up the phone and giving another quick stretch. She quickly went into the bathroom, having fallen asleep with her make up on the night before she figured it would be a good idea to was it off and brush her teeth. The Argent gave a yawn and made quick work of the tasks at hand, throwing her hair up into a messy bun before turning to her room and layering an oversized flannel shirt over her tank top and buttoning it.  It was then that her phone gave the fmailiar 'ping' indicating a text message. "Right on time.." she exhaled, checking it. Yup. Allison quietly made her way downstairs and opened the door for the awaiting teen.  
Stiles smirked when he saw Allison at the door. "Yikes, you look like death." He teased.   
"Yeah well, I generally don't put on my weekend face until noon." She scoffed back, welcoming him inside. He nodded when she put a finger to her lips, signaling him to keep his voice down. "C'mon, it's in the basement, I'll teach you how to use it." she whispered. Another nod as she led him towards the door, stifling a chuckle at how easy he could have twisted that into a dirty joke.   
Stiles paused, swallowing hard as memories from his last experience in the Argent's basement came flooding back. He took a deep breath before following her down and looking around. On the far wall sat a small target he hadn't noticed in the past. He watched as Allison got her bow and gathered a few practice arrows.   
"Alright, take this." She started. Stiles took the compound bow from the girl and watched as she got into position behind him. He raised a brow when he felt her hands over his.   
"Getting a little friendly, aren't we?" He teased, almost feeling her roll her eyes at him.   
"Shut up," she chuckled, moving his hands to hold up the bow. "Keep your feet and shoulders linear at all times. You're going to want to hold it- here. Like that.  Straighten your arm but don't lock that elbow, your elbow hyperextends when it's locked and your hoodie is going to get in the way... Right, just like that. Now.." He felt her bring her other hand around, drawing his back into position. "You're going to anchor your thumb against your cheekbone, so you can see straight down the length of the arrow."  
"But there's no arrow.." He interjected quickly.  
"I know, we're going to get to that, be quiet. You need to learn form first. Okay, once your target is in range and you're comfortable with your aim, you let go-DON'T let go if it isn't loaded."  
"Why not?"  
"See those tracks at the top and bottom of the bow? They'll disalign from the tension of the release without an arrow to be pushed forward. It'll snap back too quickly and its..."  
Stiles looked back at her with a blank stare.   
"It's just complicated and messy, just don't do it. Now, pick up an arrow. You're going to knock it against the chord and grip it between your index and middle fingers. Aim for the target, and when you're ready, take your shot." He felt her let go of him, taking a few steps back as he tried to work out the technicalities.   
He loaded the arrow, remembering everything she had just said to him. He could hear her coaxing him through the set up and focused in on the target, taking a moment, and a deep breath, before releasing it. The arrow cut through the air and sank deep into the bottom of the target.   
"Not bad for a first shot," he heard her say behind him, handing over another arrow. "Try a few more times, get comfortable with it."   
Stiles nodded, loading up another arrow and taking his time. The next few shots cut though the air in similar fashions, save for the one where his hand slipped and nearly sent one through the ceiling. He was getting progressively closer and closer,  but still no bulls eye. Stiles wasn't too worked up about it. He wasn't looking to be the next Clint Barton, he just needed to kill a few deer. How difficult could that possibly be?  
"Alright, I think I've got the hang of it. I'll bring it back as soon as I'm done with it."   
Allison nodded. "No problem, I'll get you a quiver and some actual hunting arrows set up. Go pull the ones from the target." He watched her turn towards the closet, unlocking it and starting to rummage around before jogging over and wrestling the arrows free from the foam. When he'd returned Allison had slung the filled quiver over her shoulder, watching with an amused expression. "Have fun?" she teased, handing him the equipment. Stiles merely scoffed in reply. "Be careful, these are actually sharp, and it’s always going to be more difficult shooting a moving target than a stagnant one." She gave a smile. "Be safe and uh.. have fun I guess?"  
"Thanks a lot, you're the best," he said quickly, taking the arrows and following her upstairs. She walked him to the door and he gave her a quick hug before heading back to his truck.


	6. Chapter 6

When Stiles had asked for something to do last night, this whole 'adventure', if you could even call it that, was the farthest thing from his mind. He decided, as he drove off to the Hale house, that he needs to seriously reconsider ever opening his mouth again and questioning anything. His mind was racing as he drove, thinking about everything but nothing at the same time. Only he could do it. Only he could bring Derek back. 

He pulled up to the front porch, the house looking the same as it did the night before, though he supposed he couldn't really expect it to look any different. The boy hopped out of the truck, swinging the loaded quiver over his shoulder and across his back before grabbing the compound bow and heading into the woods.   
Stiles didn't know much about hunting, but he knew the best time to find deer was early in the morning around sunrise. Now it was almost noon. He had no idea how he'd find one let alone like three or four. He wandered around for almost two hours before he saw one off in the distance. The boy froze, grabbing an arrow and slinking towards it quietly. He knocked the arrow into place but didn't draw back just yet, wanting to still get a bit closer. He kept behind trees as best as he could, trying to keep out of sight; not the easiest thing in the world to do in a red hoodie, he noted. When he felt he couldn't get any closer he straightened, drawing back the arrow and anchoring it like Allison taught him. He took a deep breath. He was doing this for Derek. He had to get these for Derek.   
For Derek.  
He released the arrow, watching it cut into the air and sink into the tender flesh where the deer's shoulder met its neck. Not exactly where he was aiming for but he figured that could work. The animal took off full speed, and Stiles blindly tore after it. There was no way after two hours he was going to let one get away. Besides how far can a damn wounded deer run anyway with only partial mobility in its front leg? Right?  
Pretty goddamn far. Stiles kept up as best as he could, branches whipping at him and leaves slipping from under his feet. This wasn't working. Stiles felt himself starting to tire long before the deer was showing any indication of it. He needed to shoot it again. The boy grabbed another arrow, now directly behind the animal as it sprinted through the woods. He drew back, trying to run and aim at the same time, and took another deep breath. When he was satisfied with his aim he released the second arr-   
"FUCK!" Stiles yelped, tumbling to the ground. He let out a harsh cough as the air was pushed from his body before sitting up quickly. "Who the fuck-!?" He looked around, back past his feet. In the middle of the trail sat an old decaying tree stump, half covered with leaves which Stiles evidently didn't see coming and fell face first over. He gathered the arrows that dislodged from his quiver during the fall and looked ahead of him. Lying in the middle of the trail was the young buck, quiet and still, an arrow shot straight through his skull from behind.   
Stiles initial reaction was to turn away, of course. He wasn't meant to hunt things, he loved animals too much and having to do this really sucked. He had been aiming to shoot between the animal's shoulder blades, but he assumed the trip skewed that a bit. He sighed, pulling the arrows from the warm corpse and grabbing him by the antlers. It was pretty big, big enough that it probably weighed about as much as if not more than Stiles, and it took him easily over an hour to drag it back to the Hale property. He nearly fell to his knees in exhaustion when the first deer reached his destination. Stiles stomach gave an aching sound and he realized he hadn't eaten since yesterday morning before school. He gave a groan, trudging back to his car and rummaging through a box in the trunk, finding a protein bar and scarfing it down with some water before heading back into the woods.  


Hunting down the second deer took even longer than the first. A young doe, smaller than the first one as well. She had no antlers to pull so Stiles had to swing her over his shoulders and carry her on his back. The sun had almost completely set by the time he dropped her by the first deer and set out for number three. That one took the longest to find since he could hardly see past his own face, and it was around midnight when he finally made it back to Derek's grave. Now all he had to do was dig him the fuck up, make out with him and watch him eat dead deer... 

Wonderful. He sure knew how to pick 'em.  


Stiles was exhausted. His legs were weak under him, his shirt was drenched in sweat under his hoodie. He was still going off of absolutely no sleep and it was almost physically painful. But every time he found himself contemplating sleeping and coming back the next day, he remembered that while he took his sweet ass time, Derek was laying in the ground. Dead. That was usually enough of a fire under his ass and he quickly get back to work. The boy headed over to the truck, grabbing a shovel and dragging it to the freshly dug soil. He dug, and dug, and dug, pushing through the fatigue. It took a bit longer but eventually he reached the wooden box that undoubtedly held his mate. 

He paused. Everything had to be in place.  
The boy broke open the coffin, tearing away the wood and clearing the alpha from the rubble before hopping out of the semi-shallow grave and positioning the deer carcasses around it. The only way he could possibly think of this working would be for him to jump out of the grave and past the dead animals.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles took a deep breath, pulling the corked glass bottle from his pocket and dropping down to straddle the alpha with his feet under him. This was it.. do or die time. His hands were shaking with both exhaustion and fear, adrenaline starting to course through his body. He pulled open Derek's mouth with one hand, wincing as he heard cracking. Shit he hoped he didn’t break anything... Oh god, okay,  he was actually going to do this..   
He was going to make out with a dead guy.   
A dead werewolf guy.   
A dead werewolf guy named Derek fucking Hale.  
Oh god oh fuck shit fuck fuck fuck. No way, he couldn't do this. You don't just shove your tongue down a dead guy's throat, what the actual fuck. He sat back up, trying to get his harsh, ragged breathing back under control. When did he start panicking like this? He was on the verge of hyperventilating. He closed his eyes. Derek Hale was dead right now. He was dead and this was the only chance he had to bring him back to life. Another few slow deep breaths and Stiles crouched back down over the wolf. He ran a hand up his chest slowly. The alpha was merely dressed in a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt. His fingers delicately made their way up and cupped the side of his face. All of the gashes to his torso were still there. It figured, he supposed. Derek was dead. He wouldn't be healing himself anymore.   
One final deep breath and Stiles uncorked the bottle, quickly bringing it to his lips and filling his mouth with the incredibly bitter, foul tasting liquid. It took every ounce of self control not to go into a coughing fit and spit it all out. But then it would be ruined. The serum would be dispersed into open air and all of this work would have been for nothing. He pressed his eyes shut, clutching the glass bottle hard enough to threaten it shattering in his hand. He brought the other to the alpha's face and cupped it gently, leaning down and parting his lips against Derek's. It took a moment for the serum to leak down into his mouth, and Stiles found his tongue slipping down into Derek's; the muscle working its way around the empty orifice, trying to press the thick liquid against his tongue and into the walls of his mouth.   
It all happened at once.   


There was a searing pain in the side of Stiles' arm and before he could even react to it he found himself airborne, his back slamming against a thick tree with a choked grunt. He forced himself to sit up, clutching his upper arm. Derek had shifted, as completely as the alpha could. He leapt to his feet and gave a vicious, hearty roar. The sound sent chills racing down Stiles' spine and he started to feel that familiar panic welling up in his gut. 

What if Derek /didn't/ calm down. What if he stayed like this? What had Stiles unleashed on Beacon Hills? This wasn't the Derek he knew. This.. this was an animal. The only hint of humanity was the remainder of his physical form, and even that was questionable. He sat perfectly still as Derek sniffed at the carcasses before tearing into one of them and feeding without the slightest care in the world. Stiles heard the sound of muscle ripping, of bones snapping as Derek fed and slurped and cleaned the bodies of their meat and any edible organs.   


He made it through the first deer within maybe twenty minutes. It completely blew Stiles' mind how easily he was tearing into them. Derek approached the second one a bit more cautiously, facing Stiles this time as he tore up the body in the same fashion. Stiles did his best not to blatantly stare as he ate, though he felt the alpha's eyes on him multiple times while he cleaned the second carcass of anything edible, his face soaked in blood below the eyes. He could almost feel the blind rage starting to die down in the wolf, and that was a relief. Still, he dare not move. 

When he got to the third deer he paused a minute, sniffing the air before his gaze set on Stiles. The boy’s hands were shaking a bit now. When did it get so cold? It wasn't cold ten minutes ago. He looked down at his arm and moved his hand carefully. His eyes widened when he saw his palm smeared with blood. Derek had done that. He looked back up at the alpha who was picking at the third carcass a bit more relaxed and slowly shifting back to his human form. When he finished, Derek stood and Stiles felt his stomach knot up.   
"Stiles.." Christ, it was so good to hear his voice. His rough, deep, sourwolf voice. His eyes welled up and he swallowed hard. He didn't know what he would have done if this didn't work, if he would have never heard this voice again. Stiles stood slowly, still pressed against the tree trunk and Derek turned to face him, his eyes going from the boy to his own body, which had finished healing, back to the boy. "How did you..."   
Stiles shook his head and all but marched right up to Derek, burying his face in the alpha's chest. He wrapped his good arm around him, his wounded arm pressed between them and he just stood there, clinging to him and trying to pull him impossibly close. When a couple tears broke from his eyes he just shook his head again, into his chest. He felt Derek tense under him for a moment before cautiously wrapping his arms around the boy securely. This was it. He was safe in Derek's massive arms. After a long while he looked up at him, giving a weak smile. He pulled Derek's bloodsoaked face down into a hard kiss, having to hop up onto his tip-toes to reach. The boy could feel the other almost shoot back instinctively, but he fought it, instead pressing back into Stiles and holding him closer. When the kiss deepened Stiles shuddered. He could still taste the serum, and now it had mixed with the animal blood and organs and shit. It was almost nauseating.   
Almost. Because none of that mattered. Derek was alive again. Nothing else mattered.   
He realized he would eventually have to explain everything to him, and that would probably be the most awkward thing ever, but right now, the only thing he cared about was being against the alpha's warm body.


End file.
